


Tortured

by I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins/pseuds/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short, au one-shot, about my OC Tristan. If you know him from On Bended Knee, and or Shipwrecked, does contain spoilers but isn't a part of that canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tortured

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FenZev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenZev/gifts), [Graymalkyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graymalkyn/gifts).



Sharp pain, like a thousand needles piercing his skin, washed over him in scalding hot waves. A loud scream shattered the silence. It took him awhile to release that broken sound was coming from his throat. His fingers gripped his hair, knuckles white, and clumps fell out in his hands.

 

Blood dripped from his mouth as Tristan slumped forward, the red lyrium still burning through his body. How many days had they been torturing him? Five? Six? He'd lost count. Demons cast in the skins of Piper, and then Maurevar, danced before him, tempting him with their lies. But he was a Seeker, and no demon could tempt him from his path.

 

But the the pain, oh sweet Maker, the pain. His very blood felt like it was on fire as the cursed red lyrium flowed through him, twisting his flesh and morphing him into something new, something wretched and horrible. Something cursed. 

 

His hands shook as he clutched his pendant to his chest. His breathing was ragged. His heart was beating painfully fast beneath his ribs, pounding against the ribs and muscle. He blinked as a shape began to take form before his eyes. Dark blonde hair with a hint of brown. Vivid green eyes, brows pinched together like crooked window frames. Lips pulled down in a small frown.

 

"Tristan? Shhh, love, I'm here, now," she whispered, stroking his cheek.

 

He flinched, pulling back. "You're not real," he replied, voice hoarse from shouting.

 

Another face appeared over her shoulder, with speckled cheeks and burnt orange hair. "Don't worry, Seeker, we're real enough," she said, voice grim.

 

This was new. They had never brought her into this nightmare before. "Valiente? No, you are another trick. Begone, demon, I- I will not heed to you," he mumbled, head throbbing.

 

A small, gentle hand grabbed his, and a familiar sense of healing flowed through him. A light blue glow surrounded a cherub face with dark brown curls. "Corderito? I, can it truly be? Amiga, help me to stand, if you are real indeed," he said, meeting Mar's eyes.

 

Mar smiled as she rubbed the pad of her thumb across his lips. "Of course, come on. I've got you," she soothed, pressing a soft kiss against the stubble of his cheek. Her lips were soft as a rose petal against his skin and he paused to breath in the sweet, honeyed scent of her.

 

They led him down the corridor, each footstep agonizingly slow. At each sound in the distance, Tristan winced, fearing it was his captors. But he was free, now. He wasn't alone. He'd be safe.

 

Light shone up ahead, sparkling against a small puddle of water on the ground. Tristan felt his lips stretch across his gaunt and tired face, pulling his muscles in an unfamiliar upward tug. "We're almost there, amiga," he whispered, turning toward Mar.

 

His eyes widened. Mar's face was twisted in a cruel, cold smile, eyes gleaming purple. A low laugh bubbled from her lips. "What'sss wrong, my love? Are you afraid?" she hissed, lips pulling back to reveal pointed teeth, dripping with saliva. 

 

Tristan backed away, head shaking side to side so quickly, his neck felt like it might snap. "No, no!" He clutched at his pendant as his back hit the wall. "No!"

 

The demon hissed at him as he fell to the ground, screaming a wordless sound that bounced off the cave walls.  Lilith bent over him, her crystal blue eyes gleaming in the dying light. "Come now, Seeker. Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked, lips bent in a strange smile.

 

He spit in her face, lunging forward. "La bruja!" he shouted, voice breaking. His hands reached for her throat, pale white and gleaming. As his hands made contact with her soft, silken skin he felt her magic grip his body, twisting the shards of red lyrium still infecting him. They mangled his insides until he felt something burst, shooting pain through his body until all he could see was stars.

 

As he lay on the ground, blood pooling around him, he could still see Lilith above him, smiling. "We will bring Andraste back, Seeker. It is a shame you shall not be here to see it, no?" Her accent, a mix between Orlesian and Tevinter, sent a final chill down his back.

 

Is this how Piper had felt, in her last moments? Lost, broken.... used?

 

He sent a final prayer to the Maker, to watch over Maurevar and her sister and their brave warrior friend. With his final breath, he cursed Lilith and her damnable cult. 

 

She laughed, looking down at the dead Seeker, and twirled her finger in the pool of a dark black blood.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea hit me and wouldn't leave but I felt it was too depressing and didn't fit the Way of Thedas canon and where I needed that story to go. So, I plopped it down here. I'll let you decide if the actual storyline for this character is less or more depressing.


End file.
